


The Lover

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Light Bondage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Seduction, Sexual Fantasy, not a cheating fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:09:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4899736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye decides to cheat on Coulson. (see notes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lover

**Author's Note:**

> There's no cheating in the fic. Skye very much DOESN'T cheat on Coulson. If that worries you.
> 
> With apologies to Harold Pinter.

Skye's soon-to-be-lover orders himself a scotch with water in the hotel bar.

"What's your drink?"

That's right. He doesn't know you, Skye thinks.

"This is a special occasion," she says, a bit morbidlly. "Maybe red wine?" The man nods. "I'm not a red-wine person. I'm not even a wine-wine person, uh," she blabbers. She hopes the stranger finds this charming and not clumsy.

She studies his profile as he calls the waiter. She's picked well. Handsome guy, but he looks discreet. Good clothes, but not flashy. He's not a show-off. Skye couldn't deal with a show-off. Not for this. She needs something sexy and nice and safe.

"Here's your drink... sorry, I didn't even ask your name," he says, chuckling, dropping his gaze a bit, like he's a bit shy. Skye doesn't mind a bit shy. _Too_ shy would be a problem, though.

"Sue," she says. It feels so strange on her tongue. Hadn't used that name in ages. And in her own mind she's Skye tonight, like she sometimes is in private – off duty, not an agent, not an Inhuman, not Daisy Johnson. Just a woman in a bar wanting to take a guy she likes to bed.

"You don't look like a Sue." She smiles. She wonders if he's about to give her a fake name, or a version of himself like she does. She wonders if they are in sync. "I'm James."

"You really don't look like a James."

Her potential lover chuckles, feigning offense.

"My mother picked it. Said it sounded princely."

He's charming but she is faltering.

She had felt bold drawing him out of the bar and into this hotel. 

She looks around and wonders how many people are here for the same reason she is. How many are here to cheat, to betray, to daydream. The other people sipping on their drinks, not listening to the bland jazzy soundtrack, talking to lovers new and old. This was supposed to be the scenario, wasn't it. This is what Skye had in mind from the beginning. Yet she is out of her element. This is not her scene – she has never been somewhere this classy (she has never been someone this classy) and she has never cheated on anyone before. She doesn't know how one is supposed to _act_ in this situation.

She starts to feel a bit like a joke in this expensive hotel, in this ridiculous dress, drinking with this stranger, getting a room with him. He is charming but this probably a stupid idea.

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit nervous," she admits. She hopes it's okay to tell him that.

The man touches her wrist, very lightly, unintrusive. His touch is warm and Skye feels safe and it goes straight between her legs. That's a good sign. This is exactly what she needed from the whole thing.

"Don't be nervous," he tells her. The tone is familiar. "You brought me here. This is your play. From now on only what you want to happen will happen. Okay?"

She nods, still anxious but relieved, at least where this stranger is concerned. 

She knows he's not going to hurt her. He's not going to judge her or laugh at her for what she's doing.

"Do you mind if I ask? Why are you doing this?"

His voice. Another _elegant_ feature of choice, Skye guesses. Honest enough that she knows she can trust it, fake enough that he leaves the fantasy intact. That part is very important because she's not fooling him; she wouldn't do this. She wouldn't do this to her partner.

Skye looks around, feeling a fraud, and then into her glass.

"You said you had a boyfriend," he adds.

"Y- yeah," she says. Though the word seems too small and restrictive for what she has with the man she loves. And she's thrown off by _James_ bringing up the issue. She had imagined...

"Did he do something bad to you?" the man asks, gently. "Are you punishing him?"

She shakes her head. She doesn't feel like saying it out loud right now but her boyfriend would never hurt her like that. And she would never want to hurt him back. The man makes an ambiguous noise at the back of her throat, considering her with his observant eyes. She likes the color. It's the first thing she noticed in him, his eyes. Who knows, maybe it's what made her pick him.

"Are you bored with the relationship?" he asks next, obviously curious. She doesn't mind curious. It's right up her alley.

Skye laughs. The man gives her a pleased smile, waiting for the explanation.

"You can say a lot of things about my relationship with my boyfriend, boring is not a word I would ever use."

"Most women who do this are bored or want revenge."

"Most women, uh?" she repeats, taunting. "Are you an expert?"

He skirts the question. "Doesn't he love you?" he asks instead. She searches those nice eyes. Is he making fun of her?

She decides to play the game for what it's worth. "He loves me. I always knew that. He just doesn't say it much."

"So he's afraid of commitment."

"No, he's very committed." 

A twinkle in the man's eye. "I've got it. He doesn't satisfy you in bed?"

She chuckles a bit. Bold. She wasn't expecting him to be this direct.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "He has a big cock."

The man smiles sheepishly at that and takes another sip of his scotch.

"So what's the problem?"

"I didn't say there was a problem," Skye says, smirking at the nosy stranger.

"Okay. So you're just having your own fun."

"We've been a bit too busy lately. Maybe I've been missing him a bit. Been a bit... _lonely_ "

"So that's why you're picking strange men in bars?"

She gets caught up in the details. He is fidgeting – right hand – with the little napkin under his glass.

She doesn't want to talk about him right now. The man she loves. Discuss her current lover with her soon-to-be lover. It's wrong and it's tiresome and it might break the spell.

"You should try to defend him," she suggests instead.

"Your boyfriend?"

"Isn't that what guys do? Rail to each other's defense? _Forgive him, try to understand him, it's not his fault_. That kind of stuff."

"They do," Skye's soon-to-be lover says. "But I'm not sure I'm that kind of guy, if that's what you are looking for."

Skye touches the front of his shirt, fingers playful against the fabric, the first two buttons undone. Her boyfriend used to always wear ties, she thinks.

"And what kind of guy _are you_?"

"The kind who wouldn't miss the chance to be with a woman like you," he replies, not missing a beat, wow, impressive.

It sounds like a line and it doesn't.

"I'm sorry," she laughs. "I'm definitely not that kind of girl."

"What kind of girl?"

"The kind who would be impressed by a line."

The man shakes his head softly. "No, I guess you're not. I must do better than that, then."

He offers his hand. The preambles are over.

She takes it, that first electric moment of contact, she wants to bottle it up. 

 

+

 

Now there's the awkward transition, asking for the room key in reception. She should have made sure this bit was smoother, Skye kicks herself mentally. Everything else she has set up perfectly. Picking the clothes, the place. Laying down the rules.

"I was surprised when you walked up to me in that bar," the stranger says as they wait for the elevator. "There were many men there willing to come here with you."

"You were the prettiest," she teases, forgetting for a moment they have just met and he wouldn't catch the tone.

"I know I was." His smirk is quite sexy, Skye decides. When it dissolves it becomes a warm and sweet smile. "But I'm considerably older than you."

She raises an eyebrow. _Okay_.

"My boyfriend is older than me," she replies.

"So I'm just a substitute."

She looks at him from head to toe, bitting her bottom lip. "Yeah, maybe..." she admits.

Once inside the elevator the stranger presses her against the wall gently and Skye smiles at the soft urgency, what she wanted, of his hand on her hip and his mouth on her neck. He mouths her fake name in a moan against her skin and Skye's smile widens. She made the right choice back at the bar.

"Have you done this before?" she asks, brushing her lips against his hair.

He pulls back, tearing his mouth away from her shoulder, bare but by the strap of her dress. He looks confused for a moment. Sheepish again. Kinda cute. "What?"

"Sleeping with someone who has a... partner."

She hesitates a bit, like she's not sure how she'd classify what she has in front of a stranger, with the ambiguous account she has given. That was the idea, an ambiguous account.

"Once," the man admits, without pride or shame, just matter-of-factly. "I was young. She was older. It was a mess."

Skye slips a bit, admits she's curious about that, who wouldn't be. She wants to hear the story.

"What happened with her?"

"She went back to her husband soon after," he replies. "They're still together and happy, as far as I know."

Skye smiles at him. "Well, that comforts me a bit."

"Not so great for me, though."

"I'm not someone you would want to keep," Skye says. And some days, that's how she feels about the man she loves as well, and about _Skye_ rather than Daisy. It's not lack of confidence, just habit. She wonders if the man she loves notices and if it bothers him. He does and it probably does, Skye decides.

The man in front of her takes her by the arm, brushes his hot mouth against her ear.

"I believe you're definitely someone I'd like to keep," he whispers and lets her go.

She feels the heat in her cheeks. Good. 

The elevator doors open again and it takes her a moment to react, flushed.

She flexes her fingers as she follows him down the corridor – wait, she's the one with the room key – trying to keep her nerves from making her too stiff to go through with it.

"Have you done this before?" he asks. 

Fair enough, Skye thinks.

" _Cheat_? Never."

"No, I figured you hadn't," he says softly, not like it's a character flaw. When they arrive at the door he grabs her again, like in the elevator, this time bringing his mouth against hers. She freezes a moment, then that excitement comes back, and the man's mouth becomes a joy. He pauses a moment, breathing close to her. "Why are you _really_ doing this? I just want to know where I stand."

"You said it was my play," she reminds him. He doesn't flinch. "Would you believe me if I told you I was curious?"

"Yeah," he replies, letting her finish with the subject, kissing her lower lip slowly.

What she doesn't say is: she's never really had sex with a stranger, a man she just met, not once in her life. The idea would be too daunting, she's not wired for that kind of thing. She needs the trust first. But the man has probably noticed already.

When they enter the room – he takes the card from her hand and touches the small of the back while he opens the door – there's already champagne in ice waiting for them.

"Nice touch," Skye says, gesturing towards the bottle.

"Anything for you," he replies, almost self-deprecating.

"You're kind of sleazy, aren't you."

He doesn't reply.

"I like that," she adds. "Easygoing. My boyfriend walks around with the weight of the world on his shoulders. You're lighter."

He makes a weird, serious expression for a moment then he slips back into the easy smile, walking around the room to stand behind Skye. He curls his fingers around her shoulders, digging his thumbs into the exposed skin.

"What about _your_ shoulders?" he says softly, massaging her.

She turns around and he steps back, hands in the air like an apology. 

She figures it's time – she didn't write a script, though she thought about it – for her to make a show of passion. She grabs him by the lapel and she pushes him against the wall. The air knocked out of his lungs – _metaphorically_ , okay, she could but that would give away her skills. Her mouth, like she would press it against the man she loves. It's not any different. He reacts not unlike her partner would, with a surprised hiss as he opens his mouth for her, body all sensitive and ready for her.

She imagines herself getting on her knees and taking this stranger in her mouth. This is not a position the man she loves enjoys often, because he's foolishly romantic and he likes seeing her face when they fuck and all that stuff, but from time to time – from time to time there are times when the man Skye loves closes his eyes, tired, and leans back on his Directorial Chair and lets her untangle him drawing her mouth across his cock, wrapping him in warmth after a long day of saving the world.

This new, future, _almost_ lover refuses this advance, as he catches her sneaking her hand down his hip, he twists her wrist gently and smiles almost shyly at her frustration. "Slow down," he tells her. Skye has the urge to roll her eyes. Not in front of a stranger, she reminds herself as _James_ disentagles himself from her sudden voracity, smoothing the moment over until it goes back to easy flirting and excitement and the-moment-before. Skye takes a moment to realize she's grateful. He's right: _not yet_. For a second his confidence seems to slip.

He takes a moment for himself to fix that, turning his back as he takes off his jacket and opens the champagne. Quickly, gracefully. Like a pro. Is that pretend or is it really easy for him? She's curious, but she doesn't dare break the spell by asking.

"We have all night," he says in a movie-star velvet voice. "Or are you going to disappear at the stroke of midnight?"

Skye pours herself a glass of champagne.

"You got the trong fairytale," she says, turning to face him. 

"Did I?"

"I'm Godzilla."

"I don't understand. _Godzilla_ is a fairytale?"

"Of course," she says. The man quirks an eyebrow. Skye sits on the bed, checking the softness of the mattress. Luxurious. She gestures for him to sit too, and listen to her. She explains. Maybe it's a good thing she's telling this to a stranger and not the man she loves. He'd worry. "Imagine a group of people. Something bad happens to them. Something so unthinkably awful that they cannot accept it, cannot admit it's part of them. So they dream up a monster out of that fear and pain. They put all those awful thoughts and bad feelings in that figure. Not just the trauma of what they went through, but how they're afraid of their own ugliness, of having deserved it, you know. That's Godzilla."

Any normal person would run if their prospective one night stand told them something weird like this – not just a Godzilla rant but the idea that she identifies with the monster – but this guy doesn't. He looks at Skye with curiosity.

"But Godzilla is not always bad," he says after a beat. "Sometimes it fights other bad guys and protects humanity, like with that lobster monster."

Skye is impressed. "You know your Godzilla."

"I have this... friend who likes the movies. We watched a couple together."

"She must be a dork."

"How do you know she's a woman?"

"I could tell," Skye says.

"And I can tell you're Good Guy Godzilla."

She laughs. "We said no personal stuff. And you don't know me."

"I know you a bit," he says, touching her wrist.

That's a move and the talk is over, no more Godzilla nonsense, and Skye is glad for it, too much of his voice, too much of the way he listens to her, and the fantasy would be destroyed.

He pulls her to him on the bed. He parts her short hair with his hand, kissing the back of her neck. She wonders if he is going to take off her dress but he doesn't. He moves further up their bed and gently pushes on her back until Skye gets the idea and shifts to settle on her hands as the man stands behind her, grabbing her ass appreciatively. For a moment she wants to giggle – being porn-movie sexy is not her thing, or the thing of the man she loves, and they often end up laughing at their own earthiness. But humor dies on her lips as she is about to say something familiar, because the man is slipping his right hand under her red dress and touching her bare leg.

"Okay, that's – fine," she breathes.

She feels him crawl on his knees over the mattress as well, twisting his fingers into her dress to lift it and bringing his mouth against her without warning.

Skye does not think about her permanent lover's mouth, how much patience it required of her to get him to kiss her for the first time, the relief that first moment she felt that mouth on her body. Not unlike now. Not unlike the way this stranger is touching her now.

The man is running his right hand over her back almost lovingly as he moves his tongue against her, rolling up her dress further, a kind of alien warmth she can only feel through the fabric. He keeps his left hand on the sheets and Skye doesn't not want to think about – his right hand pulls back though, travelling the wrinkles of her dress until his thumb touches skin, right on the small of her back, right above her ass, where a thin film of sweat begins to cover the spot. 

And he takes his time with it, letting it bottle up inside her little by little. He doesn't use his fingers like her boyfriend does. He pushes her underwear to one side and buries his tongue deep, making Skye clench around it, dig her fingernails into the sheet. He's good. She comes thinking _he's good_ and glad to be able to feel the excitement of this without the shame.

She grabs the champagne bottle next and passes it to him, letting him catch his breath. He drinks from it, arousal making both of them forget decorum.

If this were the man she loves she would compliment him on his chill eating-out face.

"Thank you," he says.

She gives him a moment.

"Sit there," she says afterwards, gesturing towards the head of the bed.

Her technically-already-lover leaves the champagne on the tray and lies back, finally kicking off his shoes to the floor. Skye would love to reach out and just kiss him now, taste herself on his mouth, but that something she would do with her partner, not the person you chose to cheat on your partner with.

She fixes her dress as best she can, stealing a look at him to see if he thinks it's sexy.

"Comfortable?" she asks.

He nods. "Why?"

She walks back to the drawer, picking up her things.

"I brought something to tie you with," she says.

She takes the ties out of her handbag. A dark blue one, and one with gray and black stripes.

"Let me guess," the man says, narrowing his eyes. "They're your boyfriend's."

Skye nods.

"That's a bit –"

"Messed up?" she finishes for him. "I'm a bit messed up."

"You really love him, don't you?" he asks, like he is surprised, like he's not been fishing for it.

"Yeah, a lot," Skye admits, not bothering to be coy about it.

"Tell me about it," he says. She tilts her head, almost giving up. "No. I mean. Tell about why you're here with me instead of him."

Skye tenses the knot around his left wrist. He lets out a little moan. A good one, not a "it's too tight" one. Though she shouldn't know this. What she should and shouldn't know about him begins to disintegrate under the pressure of her pressing desire.

"Okay," he says. "You don't have to talk about it."

She shifts her weight to do the right arm, sitting on top of the man's thigh. His erection throbs quietly against her leg, she can feel it through the clothes, it makes her feel cheap in a nice kind of way. He stares at her while she does the other knot, stares hard, almost impolite for a stranger to do so.

"My job," Skye says, not looking at him. "Our line of work, it get dangerous sometimes. _Really_ dangerous. You always have to wonder if you're coming back. If the other person is coming back."

"Is that it?" he asks, lifting his hand higher to ease her task. Charming _and_ helpful. Like a fantasy. What a lucky girl you must be, Sue.

"It's hard being with someone when every time you are alone together you keep wondering if it's the last time," she tells him. "Not hard but... it stresses me out."

"And _this_ relaxes you?"

"The mouth with the questions," Skye says, dropping her head to give him a kiss with teeth.

She contemplates her work, checking one restraint, then the other. She's good at this. Half training in a totally different context, and half the fact that this is not her first rodeo.

"Too tight?" she asks her prospective lover.

"Perfect."

"My boyfriend likes this a lot," she says. "When I tie him up. When I'm in control."

He tilts his head to one side. "And you don't like it?"

"I love it. But always being in control... it can be a bit tiring."

"Would you like him to do this, tie you up?" the man asks, his expression full of realization, that he's arrived at an important point.

"Yeah..." Skye confesses. Then she shakes her head. "But he doesn't want to do it. It's the only time we've disagreed in bed."

Skye's chosen lover swallows. " _I_ could tie you up."

She gives him a grateful smile, drawing the line of his jaw with a loving gesture of her fingers.

"But you're a stranger," she says, touching his mouth. "I couldn't trust you like that. It would be out of character for me."

The man nods slowly and keeps quiet.

She kisses him to thank him for the offer and runs her hands across his chest. She decides to keep his shirt closed. She normally loves seeing her lover's body. 

"You want me to take off your pants?" she asks him, sliding her mouth accross his neck, feeling her nod. "Tell me."

"Take off my pants, please." Polite and still playing it cool. Aroused, she can feel him stiffen a bit in anticipation every time she touches him. A bit over-eager for a supposed playboy, but she prefers it this way. She values that, knowing that she is wanted. She values that over anyything.

And she likes the way he watches her unbuckle his belt, roll down his pants and drop them on the floor (like a gentleman he had already taken off his socks before getting in bed with her).

She strokes him through the fabric of his boxers.

The man lets out an encouraging whine, biting his bottom lip to keep still. (Skye's lover is normally loud)

"This is what we're why we're here," she reminds him, reminds herself too. She finds the tip of his cock and presses her thumb against it.

"S - _Sue_."

"Yes?"

"You should – you should touch me. Really touch me."

She's not going to make him beg – she enjoys making her real lover beg – so she slips her hand under the waistband of his boxers and takes him between her fingers. She can feel the man's gaze, full of curiosity, when she wraps her hand around him. Just a little flinching at the relative cold of her skin around his warm need for her. Skye smirks without meaning to, finding him as vulnerable in her hands as the man she loves.

"You're really big."

"Bigger than him?" he asks breathlessly, sounding honestly jealous.

"Don't get competitive, James," Skye says, dropping her head to kiss his neck as she moves her hand. "I'd say it's a tie."

She presses the palm against his length, dropping her hand and squeezing him gently.

Their mouths pressed together again, but closed, she feels him moan against closed lips. She likes the vibration between them right now, her hand like an anchor, her dress rolling up against over her thighs as she sits on his kness.

"You like this?" she asks. The man nods. "Tell me. Tell me how you like it. I don't know. I don't know you."

"Yes," he moans out. "I like it."

When she stands up from the bed he whimpers. He doesn't have much shame, she likes that, enjoying his hopeless glance on her body as she walks back to her handbag once more. She grabs the condom without explanations. She uses the pill already but sex with a stranger means she should be careful. Details, details. She takes a moment to finally drop her underwear, slowly because she's enjoying the hungry gaze of James.

With the man she loves they made a point of the ritual at first, using a condom, so when they stopped using them it was a sign of further trust, just like her name, in a way – when she had been Daisy long enough that she felt comfortable with going back to being _Skye_ to him. He was graceful about both shows of trust. She liked the ritual, though, sometimes misses it – the vulnerability she felt when her lover let her do it for him, the way passion bracketed a quiet moment of ordinary simplicity. She likes it now, as she does it for this stranger, as his breath is on her cheek and he holds it when her thumb brush the base of his cock.

She lines their bodies together. It's not exactly a first time, but she braces herself like it is. She can feel the man trembling with lust under her body. Her soon-to-be lover holds his breath. She sinks into him. Her lover breathes out.

"Skye..." he moans out loud.

Skye chuckles, shaking with joy all around him.

"You owe me money," she says, kissing him with familiarity, flicking her fingers.

Coulson winces, self-recriminating. "I'm so sorry."

He looks mortified.

"No, no," she reassures him. "We did great. I thought one of us would have slipped a long ago. I imagined it would be me."

She unties him, knowing that right now, once the mask has fallen, Coulson just probably wants to hold as they make love. The James persona disappears from his face like ink into water – he is less smirky, sexy in a different, deeper way. He rubs his wrist a moment. She waits for him, rolling her hips slowly.

"I imagined it would be you, too," he replies, lifting his hand to stroke her hair. "I thought I was more suave."

She smirks. "James was suave. You're a dork."

Coulson rolls his eyes a bit and sits up to meet her mouth.

Now this is more like it, Skye thinks. The game was a lot of fun, but this is her lover, the man she loves, her partner. This is better. The way Coulson knows her, intimately, unconditionally, is scary some times, and some times she feels like retreating somewhere darker and simpler, but when he kisses her like this, letting her be the one who presses her tongue against the roof of his mouth the way she likes, moving into her, snaking his hand up the curve of her naked back smoothly, this is where Skye feel at her rawest, more truthful, yet safest.

 

+

 

"I told you I wanted to do everything with you. I had never done this. Thanks," she says as she stretches to kiss Coulson's cheek, breathing in the pleasing scent of the shower he's just taken. "You had fun?"

"A lot," he says, the same sheepish smile as when she told him he had a big cock. "But I was glad when we went back to being just us."

"Aw, you're a romantic," Skye teases him. Daisy too. Both of them. 

It's hard not to tease him. Her lover is adorable, a face made for teasing.

"You had fun?" he asks.

"It had more introspection than I was expecting but yeah."

She strokes his bare arm, sliding the pad of her fingers where flesh becomes useful, necessary metal alloy, flexible and cold. The arm was the bit the required more fantasy on her part, to imagine him a new lover and not an already-beloved body, but it would have been unkind to tell him so. Coulson gives up a complicated sight when she touches him there – skin both too tender and too numb – but that Skye is used to.

"Did you mean that?" he asks. "About wanting me to be lighter?"

Skye sits up, positioning herself behind him, making a noise of disapproval.

"Don't overanalyze that stuff. I wouldn't be here if I didn't like how you walk around with the weight of the world on your shoulder." She draws her palms against his shoulder-blades. "How are those shoulders doing?"

She draws back a bit and starts vibrating the muscles under Coulson's nape, softly, concentrating on undoing the knots. He lets out an ungodly noise of pleasure and becomes liquid against her. She thinks Coulson might have a Superpowers Problem, he really likes it when Skye uses them on him. She doesn't mind, it helps her feel like her powers are part of everything she is, instead of some freak reserve she has to tap into when on a mission. She keeps doing it for a while – vibrating his tension off inch by inch, she focuses lower and lower, until Coulson's himpering gets soft and high-pitched and she lets him good.

Her ridiculously sexy red dress still rests at the end of the bed. Coulson pats the fabric with a touch of longing.

"Do you like the dress I picked?" she asks him.

He leaves the haze behind and focuses his gaze on her.

"Very much. It was surprising."

"That was the point," she says. "I liked the shoes you picked."

"I'm glad," he says softly, both of them lying back on the mattress next to each other. Coulson's not the kind of boyfriend who buys a lot of stuff for her – mainly because all the savings he had went into SHIELD's chests after the organization had to be rebuilt. Skye doesn't need to be pampered but likewise she would love to take him out to fancy restaurants and buy him expensive ties (she has never be able to afford pampering her lover, not once) but she is broke too. Cal had some savings, but they went into the resources for the Tahiti protocol as well. Technically Agent Johnson owns a building, and she could start renting the offices but she would have to clean and refurnish it, and again, no money.

 

"Skye?" Coulson calls, touching her shoulder. "Daisy?"

She comes back.

"Sorry, I was thinking about money."

"Now who's the romantic," he comments, twisting his mouth.

"Have you often picked up women in bars?" she asks.

Coulson lets out a growl, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm not answering that question."

"Oh. Why not?"

"Because it makes me feel like a dirty old man."

She grabs his chin, forcing him to pucker his lips.

"Aw, but _you are_ a dirty old man," she says. She likes making him squirm every time he brings up the stupid age difference stuff again. He doesn't do it often, not anymore. He knows there'd be retaliation.

She scrunches that mouth between her fingers more and presses her own lips against it. Coulson sighs into the kiss, like he agrees.

"Well, in that case... have many strange women picked you up in a bar?"

"Not recently," he admits. "It felt... nice."

There's something in his voice and Skye is glad they have abandoned the fantasty because it was really hard to pretend not to notice every inflexion of his voice or worry about what every little frown means.

"Uh?"

"I didn't have a problem finding companionship before. But. It hadn't happened after I came back from... well, being a corpse," he jokes. "Not after I lost my hand. It shouldn't make a difference but..."

"It does? Yeah, I imagine."

"It was nice imagining I could still pull something like this."

"Well, you pulled me. For real."

He kisses her with gratitude. Adoration, she would even say. A good perk, she can't deny.

"Seeing you accross the bar," he goes on, stroking her neck, "seeing you look at me, and _choose_ me. I knew it wasn't real but – it felt good."

"Aw."

"I suspect you think I've got more game than I actually do," he tells her.

"Enough game that you tricked Camilla Reyes into giving you the time of the day," she says. It's hard to forget about Camilla. She had got Skye thinking about Coulson and sex for the first time. In the abstract. It would take her years to think about Coulson and sex and herself in the mix. But still. Memorable.

"Well, she did turn out to be quite evil," Coulson points out.

Been there, kissed that, Skye thinks, but she keeps it to herself.

She lies on her back, replaying the evening.

"What?" Coulson asks after a few seconds.

"What _what_?"

"Your face. You're worrying about something."

She narrows her eyes at him. Sometimes the perks are a real pain in the ass.

"Do you ever worry I might cheat on you?" she asks, drawing the shape of his lips with her thumb, because the last thing she wanted is for their little game to make him even consider... He shakes his head slowly under her hand. "My, aren't we confident."

"It's not that," he tells her. "The kind of person you are... you would never want to cause me pain. I would have to do something really wrong for you to do that to me."

Now it's her turn with the grateful kissing. She turns on her side and chooses the top of his shoulder, where he gets these freckles in the sun and she gets excited because she knows all these details about him – details tiny like freckles and big like love.

"You worry about stuff like that?" he asks in kind.

"Not really. The only boyfriend who ever cheated on me I was eleven, so," she shrugs. Coulson has this bright little smile like he always does whenever she tells him some detail of her life he didn't know. "And I know you'd never consciously hurt me like that. I know if you wanted to be with someone else you'd tell me first."

"Will you answer my question now?" he says, prodding gently, his voice almost sounding like Director Coulson – another fantasy Skye is not sure she can bring up with him. Maybe in the future. She has no plans to go anywhere. "I asked even before we started."

"Why did I want to do this?" she says. Coulson nods. "I've never done it before. And I did say I wanted to do everything with you." He looked unconvinced. "I've pretended to be someone I wasn't many times. I've played games because I had to, not for me, because I was running. Not for fun."

He nods again, like it makes sense to him. Skye doesn't think about it as cleansing her past because she doesn't regret it. It's about unlearning habits. _Skye_ was a fake name to begin with – but it never sounded fake when Coulson said it. Even silly fantasies, Skye feels they can be real with him. But that's a long and corny explanation and what she wants Coulson to know is that she wants to try new things with her. 

"Have you done this with someone else?"

"Tried it a couple of times," he tells her. Skye's lover is definitely not shy when it comes to his sexual history, sharing it with her. "But it never got as far as we did. Comedy usually killed it."

She smiles at that, taking a bit of pride.

"This is not the last time we're together," Coulson says, bringing that up all of the sudden. "I promise."

She nods, swallowing emotion for a moment. She doesn't want to think about it but this feeling of urgency is what makes their relationship what it is, she guesses. She'd be happy to explore how it would be without constant risk of death, though. 

She finally finds her smile to show Coulson she knows he means it.

He drops it.

"James was hot, though," she admits, light again. "I wouldn't mind seeing him again. Sometime. In the far future."

"When you are stressed again?" Coulson asks, dropping kisses on her throat. "James wouldn't mind seeing you again, either."

"He wouldn't?"

"He told you. You're the kind of person he'd like to keep," he tells her. "Both of us."

Skye smiles and kisses her lover. Both of them.


End file.
